


Dohara

by AllegoriesInMediasRes



Series: Jodhaa Akbar canon fics [2]
Category: Jodhaa-Akbar (2008)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Dual POV, F/M, Grief, Missing Scene, Oneshot, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 06:55:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14303271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllegoriesInMediasRes/pseuds/AllegoriesInMediasRes
Summary: Jodhaa and Jalal speak, in the days after Adham Khan’s execution. Missing scene.





	Dohara

**Author's Note:**

> Title means “double” in Hindi. Set between Jalal’s apology to Maham Anga and Jodhaa & Sujamal’s meeting, as I think there had to have been a couple of days between the two events.

Jodhaa finally catches her husband at dawn the second day after Adham Khan’s death. She had not seen him at all yesterday, nor had the court for that matter. He had shut himself in his chambers and refused anyone to see him.

Jodhaa is glad to see him, both for his sake and also for her own, as it means one concern taken off her mind. Early this morning, she received a letter from Sujamal telling her that he will meet her tomorrow night at ten, on the west side of the Red Fort. He says he is planning to take her away, something which has left Jodhaa completely nonplussed. Why would she want to leave, and especially when he is busy trying to regain his throne?

That can wait for now; her husband needs her. She heard he had not eaten at all yesterday, and she knows it cannot be good for him to be without food in his state. She had cooked a small meal for him-- not a grand affair like the feast of Pir, just a few dishes she knows he likes by now. Maham Anga is too secluded in her own grief to object, not that Jodhaa takes any pleasure in her pain. Whatever quarrels she and the older woman have had, Jodhaa would not wish the fate of seeing one son kill the other on anyone.

The Emperor lets Jodhaa into his chambers, surprisingly enough. She hovers in the doorway, he sits on the edge of his bed, gaze firmly downwards. She is suddenly conscious of the distance still between them, all the little ways in which she still holds herself aloof, and resolves that she will try to bridge that distance a little now.

“Would you like to eat together, privately? Just the two of us. I heard you did not eat at all yesterday.” Her voice is soothing, as though she is coaxing one of her wounded rabbits into eating a meal. In a lot of ways, he is not so different from a wounded animal right now.

He does not answer for a long time, long enough that Jodhaa is seriously doubting this whole venture. Finally, he nods.

The two kitchen hands standing behind Jodhaa move forward, laying the platters upon the table and removing the covers, before melting into the background. He moves from his seat on the bed to the table, but still does not eat anything. Instead her husband stares at the plates with an almost menacing glower on his face.

“Would you like for me to taste the food first?” she finally offers, hoping to lighten the mood.

He still does not answer her.

This is too much. “I understand you are grieving,” she finally snaps, “but would you at least offer me the courtesy of an answer?”

Her temper rouses something in him, and he gives a small shudder, as though he is surfacing from a deep lake. “Forgive me,” he mumbles. “My mind has been scattered in these last few days, and I often find I cannot recall where I have been in the last hour.”

Jodhaa sees her opportunity. “I understand that, and that makes it all the more important that you eat, especially in a time like this. I beg you, please eat.”

She smiles slightly. “I shall taste them first, if you insist. Or I can prepare different dishes, if these are not to your liking.”

He lets out a long, long sigh. “There is no need.”

Finally, he begins to eat, tearing rotis into tiny pieces without the assistance of a servant and dipping them into the curries she has prepared. Something soft and warm fills her heart at the sight of her husband enjoying the food she has cooked for him, the simple domestic pleasures they can share, even if she is not yet ready for those pleasures that happen in the bedchamber.

“It is a difficult thing to be betrayed by those close to you,” he says abruptly, setting down the vessel with a sharp clatter. “And to have to exact reparations for that betrayal.”

He stares broodingly at the plates before him, and for a second, Jodhaa is afraid. What her brother is doing could be termed betrayal in some quarters, and her husband has already demonstrated what he does to brothers who betray him.

She prays it will not come to that.

He glances up, looks at her directly in the eye. “I ask you, for the love of Allah -- and for the love of your Shyam as well -- no matter what, please never keep secrets from me.”

The intensity of his gaze takes Jodhaa’s breath away.

“Do not inflict that pain upon me. If there is anything, anything you are worried about, let me know.”

Jodhaa nods, feeling a rush of tenderness towards him. Once, she had thought she would rather swallow poison than open her heart to a Mughal. She never dreamed she would find the beginnings of kindness, respect, and trust.

How must it be, for the rest of your life, to live with your own brother’s blood on your hands?

The Emperor is making a gesture of trust towards her, and she intends to take him up on that offer.

* * *

When he opens his eyes, it is near dawn.

Dawn means it has been forty hours since Khan Baba was murdered, and he was orphaned once more. Thirty-nine hours since he had Adham thrown from the rooftop, and thirty-one hours since he knelt at Badi Ami’s feet, seeking forgiveness, only for another potential betrayal to fall into his lap.

He had no mind for matters of state; he shut himself in his chambers for the whole day yesterday and did not come out even to eat. He is now light-headed and hollow with hunger, and his body protests as he shifts on the bed.

His court likely assumed his seclusion was thanks to the double loss of Khan Baba and Adham. That was half true; what they did not know was that he may well have lost Jodhaa as well.

He had not expected this when he first wed the Rajput enigma, who refused to convert and rebuffed him on their wedding night. He had not expected to come to look forward to her presence each day as eagerly as he did, to memorize the profile of her face, to seek her out as often as he did, to listen for the strains of her _bhajans_ , to laugh as heartily as he did with her…

Could such a creature truly be the next viper lurking in his court?

If Badi Ami’s revelations are accurate, Jodhaa will have a visitor by the next moonrise.

There is a small commotion outside his chamber, though he had given instructions he did not want to be disturbed. The object of his thoughts has manifested herself, and he lets her in, almost as an afterthought. She has bought dishes with her, and he could almost laugh. He thinks of dal bati churma and sohan halwa, of shared plates and jokes about not enough salt, of a tiny vial small enough to fit in his palm.

“Would you like to eat together privately?” If he did not know better, he would think the tremulousness in her voice was genuine. “I heard you did not eat anything yesterday.”

Only two days ago, he would have been touched by such concern, and desperate to know whether it meant she was letting down her barriers. The revelation of treachery casts a shadow over everything, and like a shadow, doubt darkens every little thought, every observation. Now he wonders that she refuses him in bed, refuses to create an heir, the most integral duty of a wife, yet she is so intent on all these peripheral duties. It is almost as though she is picking and choosing which responsibilities to fulfill, the ones that best serve her purpose…

Allah forbid it!

Not poison, that slow horror. Administered by a loving hand, that then administers solicitation on the sickbed and deathbed, all the while nursing treachery in the bosom.

He would almost prefer a sword in the back, to such subtle perfidy.

Jodhaa is speaking sharply, breaking him out of his musings. “I understand you are grieving, but can you allow me the decency of an answer!”

“Forgive me,” he finally answers, dully. “My mind has been scattered these last few days, and I often find that I cannot recall where I have been in the last hour.”

“I understand that. It is not good to be without food, especially in such a time as this. I beg you, please eat.”

She smiles-- or is it a smirk? “I shall taste them first if you want. Or have different dishes prepared.”

Is this some kind of a cruel jest she is allowing herself? Or is she genuinely trying to lighten the mood?

He sighs. “There is no need for that.” Why would she try to poison him now, when it is just the two of them dining together, and it would be obvious to all who the culprit is? Besides, if she is meeting with someone in private tomorrow, it means the plan is still being formulated.

He finds some comfort in that thought, suddenly. Perhaps it is not quite as bad as he feared. Badi Ami was right to warn him, he will not deny that, but perhaps her characteristic paranoia has amplified the truth of things. Jodhaa is keeping a secret from him, but that secret is not necessarily assassination. And he cannot entirely hold it against her if she is not yet forthcoming about sharing everything with him. Especially if it involves her family-- he knows all too well what it is like to be pressured by those he considered family.

He only hopes she will let him know before she journeys to meet this person in the night. This visitor is not necessarily her secret lover. Whoever it is, whatever she is carrying, she can share it with him.

“It is a difficult thing to be betrayed by those close to you,” he says aloud suddenly, a thought occurring to him. “And to have to exact reparations for that betrayal.”

Jodhaa nods, looking almost afraid. He feels guilty for using such underhanded manipulation, but it is necessary.

He looks her directly in the eye, trusting her not to break away. “I ask you, for the love of Allah -- and for the love of your Shyam as well -- no matter what, please never keep secrets from me. If there is ever anything, _anything_ you are worried about, let me know.”

He has delivered his message, and it is for her to answer.


End file.
